


Cops and Destinations

by mettaTONafun



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Choose Your Own Adventure, Crack-ish, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Reader-Insert, Underfell Sans, basically you choose an edgy buddy, its... semi-serious, like 69 percent serious, short 1st chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mettaTONafun/pseuds/mettaTONafun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I dunno who you are or how you got to this AU, but you're off into the deep dark Underground.</p><p>-<br/>Note: I imagine all Sans with an Italian accent and Papyrus with a Spanish one.  blame youtube comic dubs.   Also, French-canadian muffet.  for no reason, whatsoever.  I cannot write accents my friends...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ow the edge

     You'd come to this universe not that long ago, and it was...  
     Edgy. Like, ow, calm your tits guys.  
     But it was home for now, at least until you could find a way back to your nice-Frisk pacifist route and skeleton buddies. Right now, you stuck around Snowdin since they were all hell-bent on killing you around Hot Zone. Seeing Sans and Papyrus like this was enough, you didn't want to meet Undyne- didn't want to see what this Monsterkid was like. Toriel had just been... scary. Somehow you'd nearly escaped without killing her or dying; there was no way to know if the laws of saving applied here and there was no real reason to risk it.  
Chuckling shadows stumbled through the trees; probably some bunnies drunk off their asses, but they were just as weak as you and never seemed as threatening while struggling to stand up. Then again, you were a pretty easy target perched on the edge (Ha.) of the snowy bridge. Papyrus' dumb fence was still there- pretty similar to the one you were used to except a bit.. spikier, and it might have just been for decoration. You leaned back to lay down, feet still hanging off into the abyss. After dealing with... that Toriel, you hadn't really expected your pal Sans to come out of the shadows like "Psych, gotcha'." or be taking a nap at his post. Did you? Maybe a bit, I mean, there's always hope.  
     This guy though? Couldn't really call him Sans with his filed fangs and red heart. He'd snuck up behind you - that was supposed to be his thing with Frisk - and flat out KO'd you. You'd woken up in their garage and it had never seemed so dank (Pff) and gross. Also, someone had set up actual bars that actually caged you. Edge and Bossy Edge had tried to interrogate you, and Bossy Edge wanted to keep you as back-up for the "Other human". Good to know a Frisk was around, but no one gave you specifics even after you were let out.  
The cave top pressed into your vision, and you closed your eyes to focus on the memory of your freedom.  
  
     "..." Your silence only got a sneer in response.  
     "Look at that, Sans, the little wimp thinks they can hold out. Just like your conspirator, eh? Determined?" The mocking tone sounded ridiculous, but his yank at your shirt collar punctuated it with a threat. He hadn't actually hit you or anything, and the knife he'd been throwing around for the past fifteen minutes seemed to be for show at this point. A bulky shadow leaned against the door, he'd already hidden three yawns. Right before it started, he'd said something about Papyrus not used to taking prisoners. Maybe he wasn't sure how to go about hurting someone without intending to kill them. "I'm asking one more time, human, what are your organization's plans? How many are planning on entering the Underground?" Knife tip, right in your face, slightly scratching your cheek.  
     Now, I would have said something like "Heh, that'll be the first scratch you've made." Or "That's an intimate place to start", but hey, silence is a good route too.  
     A strangled sound ripped from his throat and he hurled the knife across the room; it only slightly nicked your cheek. The slight sting zapped the hairs on the back of your neck on end.  
     "Fine! Fine," He shoved his way past Edge, hand still on the bars, "Fine!" The door slammed shut.  
     "Uh, bro," and the lights clicked off, "The door locks on its own... bro." He pointed his empty hands at the lock in irritation. "Whatever. He's great, ya'know, but forgets things if it's convenient." He slumped against the bars, seeming to forget you. In fact, you kinda forgot him too after awhile; it was pitch black and you weren't fighting, so your souls were idle.  
     "So... where'd ya come from?"  
     "..."  
     "Don't feel like talking? That's fine. Stay determined and all that. Isn't that a human motto? ... ....." Mumbling  
     Movement caught your eye, and he got close enough to see your face. Not too close though, like he was trying to gain your trust. Doubt he could. He had a black eye...socket, somehow, and his glinting, gold tooth was a bit unnerving. It was like it had sucked up the meager light of the room.  
     "Listen, alright? I don't really care about you. At most," a sidelong glance at the bars, "... you've mildly annoyed me. Punching your lights out was fun though." He seemed to be rambling a bit. "So, there's no real harm in telling me? There's never been another human around this time..."  
     * ?  
     "Uh...," he shook his head, "but, the thing is, you're even weaker than me. Ya could say you're a pacifist," a grin, "Those get eaten up around here. Sometimes literally, in that freaky spider's case." The edge master could really be dramatic, huh? He looked at you, eye-socket to eye, for a response, but whether you were scared or not, you managed to stop a reaction from forming.  
     * ...  
     He didn't say anything else for awhile, and somewhere inside the house Mettaton's show clicked on. It faintly sounded like a horror movie. "... and heeere's the _terrible_ Dr. Alphys! To sing a song about that wimpy fish!" Vague booing echoed louder than the robot's voice even though it only sounded like one person, "Haha... well, be sure to be on the lookout for a possible surprise interview from yours truly~ One lucky winner will be chosen from the draw. Disclaimer: Please do not damage the robot. You will fined a fee of..." The volume was turned down.  
     "What an annoying show... anyway. My point was, I could help you out here. You make my bro happy with some answers, I show a little Mercy. If you don't, well... like I said, he's not so good with the 'Alive' part of Wanted: Dead or Alive," leaning forward gave him enough reach to hold out his skeletal hand; it and the glass-shard grin seemed to float in the inky darkness, "So whaddya say?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes: TBA  
> No: Chapter 2  
> Let me out first: TBA


	2. smells like mettaton

     "...Really?"  
     * ...  
     "You've gotta lot to learn, kid." An off-key song rose in pitch from the house, creating an out of place background for the red pulsing of his soul. Oddly, his knees cracked as he stood and turned to the bars; he didn't look at you and one of his soft sleeves rose. Two red slices across your vision, and the clinking of the bars on the concrete. As if to taunt you, Edge left the door open on his way out. It's cool blue light shined on the floor and over your legs. There you were, chained, all alone, with familiar faces and terribly broken souls. Who knows what Papyrus would do in the morning... no, that was not Papyrus- the lofty memory of the smiling skeleton's face filled you with determination, and you struggled at the chains. It didn't work.  
     The spark died out and you just stared. The television had been turned off, and it was quiet except for the occasional owl(?) sound. You couldn't tell the time, but you were tired enough for it to be about midnight. The hour tugged at your eyelids and fuzzed at any stray thoughts. In and out of consciousness, blinking at the shadows.  
     Until footsteps jolted you awake.  
     There was a loud zapping with each step, and whoever it was came from the house. Maybe the Boss Edge was being kept awake by the thought of you being alive. Except, skeletons don't usually beep. By the time the disfigured shadow blocked the doorway, you'd already figured out who it was.  
     "Hello, Darling~! Oh, I was just going to burn down Papy dearest's shed for closing the door in my face, but," He stumbled into the room, "Maybe you'll give me an interview?" Two sets of arms reached in a robotic stretch, full of glitches and a false laugh.  
     "Sorry, sorry, I'm a bit stiff, you see, the doctor has been in lately." This Mettaton brushed some black bangs from his eyes and leaned luxuriously against the bars.  
     "So hello. I'm Mettaton, which you probably," he choked back a sob, "Didn't know. Haha, but who are you, darling?"  
     *You told him your name.  
     "Beautiful, beautiful. Much better than mine, I didn't chose it you know. What're you doing in Papy's shed?"  
     *...  
     "... Well, I understand, I wouldn't want to talk much in here either! It's dreadful! Terrible!" His monologue was punctuated with dramatic poses. "Let's get you to my comfy dressing room, and we can watch this place burn from surveillance!" As he talked, he flopped on the ground next to you. You tried to turn and see what he was doing, but the code he was putting in the lock was too complex to remember or even read correctly in that lighting. "Beep Beep, Boop!" the lock was talking... "Unlocked."  
You stretched your hands and tried peering through the darkness at your wrists, but if there were marks, you couldn't see them. He scooped you up with his snake-like arms and set you on your feet.  
     "Off we go~" Mettaton basically pushed you out of the room and pulled off one of his red gloves. Heat wafted off of him, causing you to back up into the snow for shelter. A burst of flames erupted from his hand, engulfing and doorway and quickly spreading over the garage from the inside out. He stepped through the flames with an upper-eye wink. Not even his messy hair had caught. General outraged yelling came from the house and he covered his mouth with two hands, a look of mock surprise disrupted by his laugh. Now, I would like to give you a choice of going with him or not, but c'mon- the guy's got a chainsaw on hand. At least no monsters will attack you with their "superstar" as your guide.  
     "Next question, how fast can you run?"

     Somehow, you two made it into the woods without being knocked down by a buncha dogs and bones. The shadowy trees loomed around you as you walked by his sauntering, if a bit jerky, side.  
     "Ah, the open forest. I come here sometimes to think. It's not all that far from my old ho- ... Well, we're almost to the river. Sorry, dear, we're going to have to make a circle around the town to get to the drop off point." The snow settled on his long eyelashes and sizzled where the metal was too hot. Being near him felt like being near an over-used laptop that needed its keyboard cleaned. He looked away from your interested look, fans whirring in embarrassment. For some reason, it made you feel a bit guilty. Instead, your gaze drifted over the cave top where blue gems sparkled faintly. It was beautiful in it's own way even if it reminded you of how trapped you were.  
     They must all remember that. Whenever they look up, just another sign that they were rejected. I guess it was no real surprise that this universe ended up so angry with itself. Your balance shifted, tugged to the side by two snaking arms.  
     "Oh my, be careful! You almost fell right in!" He tittered, "I'm not laughing at you! I swear... Here, I'll hold your arm so you don't drown before the interview!" You couldn't really protest against tough metal stuck fast against your arm, so you continued along the river. It was very tranquil.  
     A blue shadow flitted into view through the white; Mettaton began to tug you along until you matched his quickening pace. Since you were so close to the town, he didn't want to attract attention by yelling at Riverperson not to leave you behind. It was a close shot even though you ended up jumping in right in time. The cloak (there wasn't much to say about them than that) turned to you,  
     "Tra la~ You made it~ lala Where would you like to go?"  
     "Hotlands, d-darling~!"  
     "We're off, maybe." The boat sped away, skidding over the water with a practiced ease The only sound was the push and pull of the water and Riverperson's faint mumbling.  
     "The destination... doesn't matter much... as long as the ride feels right..." You leaned out the front to see where you're going and cold spray hit your face. While you blinked it from your eyes, the depth and temperature of the water zapped you back to your seat. Mettaton was gripping both you and the sides with all four eyes wide and tongue almost half bitten off. Not camera-ready, but satisfying to see a silly expression on him for once.  
     "We're here~!" Yes, you most certainly were, at a destination. Flung onto the ground by a menacing cat-faced boat. As it ran away you faintly heard a hiss and louder mumbling.  
     "The nerve! That thing's never reliable." The soft blue glow of waterfall surrounded you, but instead of feeling calm, an eerie aura clung to the mushrooms and tufts of algae.  
     *........  
     The two of you, on your feet again, dusted off as you were forced to venture into the shadowy cavern. Just ahead in the cramped hall, Mettaton's fists were clenched.  
     "I just," he bit some kind of noise back, "I just wanted an interview for my show..." He was still talking, but it was too gargled for you to understand.  
     Before you could ignore him or ACT, slightly more light flooded a slightly less cramped cave. A box and- oh no! That poor old turtle... probably not alive anymore, or if he is, not selling sea tea out in the open. You sighed, weighing the possibility of him being a druglord. Was that edgy enough? Maybe a slum-drug-pimplord.  
     *A louder sigh escapes  
     "Ohh dear, _darling_ interviewee, I'm so sorry for the.. the inconvenience..." He may have mumbled something like 'Of being around me.'  
     *?  
     "This way!" Mettaton didn't seem to want to continue the conversation and tugged you towards the right doorway. Which happened to be to the right if you didn't know. The rushing of the waterfalls collided with the eerie silence and your shadows slinked across the bridge. The fall looked very long.

boop boop  
FIGHT  
     "What're you wimps doing in our territory?" Some delinquent figures sidled into view. One was very adamant about graffiti while the other just wanted to punch whoever got in their way. The third cowered by the bridge, hiding behind the others; it was humming a song to console itself. Mettaton grinned his shark-toothed grin at them, trying to preen discreetly.  
     "Oh look, dear, fans." He mumbled to you, "Don't worry, I know how to deal with them." A flick of one of his wrists revealed a panel with multiple buttons and switches. You backed up, expecting flames... except, Death by Glamour started to play through his speaker.  Just... wow.  
     Bubbly laughter came from the Woshua-shaped figure before attacks spun at Mettaton's neon red soul. He dodged them in time to the beat, trying to throw in some dramatic poses in the process. He was doing pretty well until Aaron threw a punch that hit his face dead-center. His head jerked back, flinging his bangs to the side; two empty sockets narrowed in frustration. The beat dropped in time to his retaliation, two uppercuts that sent the merhorse(?) reeling.  
     *!  
     You jumped in, putting yourself in the fray with a dramatic, outstretched-arm pose of your own. This guy'd battled you before, in another universe at least. You knew how to get that yellow name. Making as much eye contact as you could, you flexed intimately in his direction. Puckered lips? Nah, nah, you're right, that'd be too much. A gasp from the crowd, who'd stopped humming with the first attack. Aaron didn't know how to take it and looked down at his hoofs instead. Meanwhile, Woshua was still trying to land a hit on our true hero.  
Mettaton dodged effortlessly, of course.  
     * ♫ ♫  
     Suddenly, Aaron flexed back, raising an eyebrow at this new way of punching. His teammate sprayed Eureka spray paint on him in exasperation. Honestly, the Fight was sort of falling apart by the time your opponents noticed the Bad Sad Boo™ slumping in menacingly. Mettaton's posing slowed and he seemed to cave in on himself a bit; soon he was just loosely hugging his arms and brushing his bangs back into place. The confused monsters rushed to be out of sight; it was rumored on of their acid tears could take out a gang and being near them could cause back pain and general bitterness.  
     "Oh no... here come's Napstablook..." It doesn't really matter who said it. The ghost looked pretty much the same except much angrier, and their music was so glaringly loud that Mettaton's theme sizzled out in comparison. They noticed you only when you didn't move out of the way.  
     "heh... mettaton..." he spat the word out languidly, "how's your silly dream going now... heh... huh?" They stare down their lack of nose with a raised ghost-brow.  
     "how'd you get your hands on a human...?"  
     "A human~?!" he burst to life, instinctively wrapping his arms around you, " _No_!?" Napstablook rolled their... eye hole... things.  
     "idiot... you're blocking my way." They faded out, leaving a sense of wanting to stick around. The robot's clinking arms wrapped tighter, picking you up.  
     "Why didn't you mention, darling?" His lower eye was sparking a bit out of excitement. You could almost see the imagined rating skyrocketing in his upper one.  
     "Can we extend your interview~! To a full segment~!" There were no questions to answer, and you were dragged along.  
     "The intrigue! The battle! The _bloodshed_!!" Suddenly darkness overtook your vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 tba


End file.
